Two years after a horrible accident, Kinsley's determined to make it through vet school, but she didn't expect to meet country boy Noel McLean who's just as mysterious as he is charming.
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Kinsley Hastings suffers from PTSD. After surviving a fata...
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Kinsley
I wake at the crack of dawn with sunlight streaming through the blinds and across my face. It's warm and comforting. The linen sheets smell of laundry detergent and something floral.
Rolling over, I squint into the brightness, a smile on my face. One could get used to these crisp sheets and fluffy pillows. I've missed having space to myself.
After rolling out of bed, I perform my usual morning routine. Then I decide to remedy my hungry stomach.
Luck is not on my side.
The fridge is empty, save for a jar of jam and basic condiments.
Removing my phone from my back pocket, I pull up Google Maps, searching for a nearby store.
There's one twenty minutes down the road. It's perfect.
Grabbing my purse, I sling it over my shoulder and slip on comfortable running shoes.
With a skip in my step, I jog up the stairs and exit the basement suite. Locking the door behind me crosses my mind. I decide against it. Noel is still here. As long as someone's on the property, locking the door seems pointless.
Following Google Maps, I head down the dirt driveway. Gravel crunches beneath my shoes and the early morning sun beats down on my back.
As I walk, I admire the view. After living on campus since September, I'm not used to seeing mountains, let alone fields of golden wheat. I run my fingers along the old wood fence. It's smooth from years of weathering.
With a deep breath, I inhale the scent of pine and wheat. It's calming.
Despite the uneasiness of staying with Noel, I feel calmer than usual. At this moment. I'm not required to be social. There isn't a reason for me to hide who I am.
I feel real. Alive.
But I know it won't last long. Spurts of happiness will bless me every once in a while. Then reality will come crashing down.
These are the moments I grab and hold them close to my heart. For one moment, I'm allowed to feel normal. Like the Kinsley I remember.
Dust rises beneath my feet as I take a left at the empty intersection.
Up ahead, I can see the lone store. Next to it is a fruit and veggie stand. A food truck is also there. In the fields behind are cows and sheep. There must another farm nearby. Some cars are parked out front.
When I enter the store, I realize the store is somewhere between a convenience store and a grocery store. There's a grocery section, a liquor section, and an essentials section.
The first things I collect at the store are some reusable cloth bags. I try to avoid plastic products as much as I can.
I eye the whisky. Never will I touch it. Pre-accident, I enjoyed indulging in a drink or two during the summer. Now I can't fathom letting a single drop touch my tongue.
